"Ivy." My name on his lips, rough and desperate. "Look at me."
I opened my eyes.
The control he perfected had cracked. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with want and regret and something that looked like pain.
"I was a coward," he said. "I should have stayed. Should have fought. Should have told you the truth and let you make the choice."
"Yes." My hand came up to cover his. "You should have."
"I can't undo it. Can't give you back those years." His other hand found my waist, pulling me closer. "But I'm here now. And I'm not running."
"How do I know that?"
"You don't." His forehead touched mine. "You have to trust me. And I know I haven't earned that."
I should push him away. Should hold onto my anger like a shield. Protect myself.
But I wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted something good for once.
Instead, I tilted my head up and kissed him.
He froze for a heartbeat, like he couldn't believe it. Then he was kissing me back, deep, hungry, and desperate. His hands slid into my hair, angling my head for better access. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. He felt solid and real.
This was stupid. Reckless. Everything I'd sworn I wouldn't do.
But God, I'd missed this. Missed him.
Eric walked me backward until we hit the wall. His mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
"Tell me to stop." His breath was hot against my throat. "Tell me this is a mistake."
"Shut up." I tugged his shirt free from his pants. "Just shut up and?—"
He kissed me again, swallowing whatever I'd been about to say. His hands found the tie of my robe, and I felt it give way. Cool air hit my skin.
"Beautiful," he murmured against my mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful."
I pulled hard at his shirt, buttons scattering across my floor. He shrugged out of it, and I pressed my palms to his chest. Solid muscle, warm skin, the steady thud of his heart beneathmy fingers. I traced the cross tattoo on his chest. We'd discussed religion so long ago, his belief in the man above. I knew what every tattoo meant, from the roses down his right arm for his mother's rose garden, to the Latin text snaking down his left arm, although there was a new one now, one I didn't recognize.
I paused, tracing the small skink that crawled across one side of the cross tattoo.
A memory flared to life, one of him telling me how he and his brother used to catch skinks as children, how his brother was always fascinated by reptiles and loved to visit Australia for their array of them.
"Daniel?" I whispered as I touched the tattoo, and Eric's face softened.
"You remember?" His voice was so soft, it made my heart lurch.
"Of course I remember."
Real. He was real.
Eric lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to my bedroom like this was us, like four years hadn't passed, like we'd done this yesterday.
He laid me on the bed, following me down. His weight pressed me into the mattress, grounding and perfect. I arched up into him, needing more contact, more friction, more everything.
"Ivy." He pulled back enough to look at me. "Are you sure?"
"Do I feel unsure?" I rolled my hips against him.
